It Caught Her
by Aksannyi
Summary: Ziva didn't want to be there, and she did her best to avoid it. But the wedding grew on her, and in the end, she didn't catch wedding fever, it caught her. Slight angst, slight romance. TIVA.


**I was never going to write a "Jimmy's wedding" fic, but I got hit in the head with this idea and I thought, "Meh, why not?" So I started it and jumped in and saw just how far the rabbit hole took me. **

**Summary: Ziva's not exactly enjoying herself at Jimmy's wedding. **

**Spoilers: Well, Jimmy's getting married. If you didn't know that, well, you do now. Though there's at least a dozen "Jimmy's wedding" fics up right now, so if you're reading this site I'm not the one who spoiled you. **

**Rated: T**

**And oh yeah, almost forgot, I don't own them. I'm quite glad I don't, actually, because the show would not be nearly as good if I owned it. And I'm really glad a lot of fan fiction writers don't own it, because then this show would be like NCIS: 90210 or some shit. And it would suck. **

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**It Caught Her**

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She was the least likely of all in attendance to consider herself "marriage material." And while the ceremony had been lovely, she was completely _over _the wedding atmosphere by the time the rings had come out.

But Jimmy was her friend, and she supposed Breena was now, too, by extension, so she'd stayed, allowed herself to grin and bear it, and even allowed herself to have a … well, a _kind of _an okay time at the reception.

But that may have been the wine. She wasn't quite sure.

She'd sat out for most of the evening, wanting mostly to just watch the others having fun on the dance floor. Ducky, perhaps not all that surprisingly, had been the biggest charmer in the room, barely having a moment to sit down throughout the festivities. Women sure loved that accent. But perhaps the biggest surprise was that Gibbs had danced. More than once.

And because it was Gibbs, she'd danced, if only to fulfill some expected father-daughter dance that every girl should have at least once in a lifetime, if not more. Gibbs had sensed that she wasn't exactly _into _the entire wedding thing, and so he'd ditched the small talk about the wedding that practically _everyone else _had made with her, and spoken with her about the song that the band was playing, and the original band to have sung it.

Who knew Gibbs had known so much about music?

Now, though, she sat at her table, nursing another glass of the deep red wine she'd become perhaps a little too fond of during the festivities, with Tony sitting to her left, and an empty seat where Ducky had been sitting to her right. Tony was chattering about … something … and she was just nodding her head, her eyes glazing over in the general direction of the dancing crowd.

The current song came to an end, and the self-appointed emcee of the evening, Breena's uncle (whose name she couldn't remember), stepped up to the mic to make what Ziva thought would be another toast to the happy couple.

"I hope all of you are having a great time celebrating Mr. and Mrs. James and Breena Palmer," he began, and most of the room began to nod, clap, and murmur in appreciation. "But it's time now for all of the single ladies to come out to the dance floor so that our lovely bride can toss the bouquet!"

Ziva watched in astonishment as at least a dozen women, Abby included, got up and made their way to the dance floor.

"Go on, Ziva, what are you waiting for?" Tony asked, almost pushing her out of her seat.

"What on earth for?"

"It's an American wedding staple," he replied, rolling his eyes that she _still _wasn't just … _American. _"All of the single women vie to catch the bride's bouquet. It's a sign that they will be the next to be married. It's tradition." He shrugged.

"And what makes you think I would want to catch it?"

"Why wouldn't you? Isn't it every girl's dream to get married?" She shot him a look, more of a glare, she supposed, which clearly seemed to advise him to drop it.

"I do not think that marriage is a reasonable future aspiration for me," she murmured, and punctuated the statement by crossing her legs firmly and looking at her partner pointedly, as if to say, _"I'm not getting up, and you can't make me."_

"Ziva …" he trailed off. He really just didn't know what to say to her this time. The relationship that wasn't … it was too fresh for her still, and he understood that. Perhaps better than she did. So he let her sit it out.

By this time, the women on the dance floor were all getting prepared to make the jump for the flying flowers. Even Tony would admit later that it looked utterly ridiculous, a bunch of women in their finest attire - to include high heels - jostling for position like they were rivals playing a basketball game, ready to knock one another out for the chance that they might catch flowers with the crazy notion that being the triumphant winner in this case would be the next of the group to walk down the aisle. Tony knew that if Ziva were out on that floor, and that if she _wanted _that bouquet, she would get it. Bar none, do not pass 'GO,' do not collect two hundred dollars.

But Ziva wasn't on that floor, and she was completely uninterested in the entire spectacle. She took another sip of her wine, hoping that this part of the festivity would end soon so that the band - who was actually quite good - would continue playing and drown out the sound of desperation that the women on the floor, ranging in age from about fifteen to forty-five, seemed to exude.

"Okay, Breena, you ready?" her uncle started, and she nodded, turning to face the opposite direction and making mock 'warm up' throws. Ziva had to admit, she and Jimmy were definitely loving the cheesy aspect of it all, and milking it for all it was worth, as even she had to smile at Breena flexing her muscle in preparation.

"Okay now, everyone count with me," Breena's uncle continued, "One … two … _three!" _The bride's arm pumped in time with the counting, and at three, she released the bouquet into the air. The gaggle of girls in the middle of the dance floor leaped simultaneously, each coming down disappointed as the bouquet landed straight on Ziva's lap.

"Nice catch, Ziva," Tony said, smirking. Ziva, too stunned to speak, simply looked down at the yellow and purple invasion to her party, mouth agape. Seventeen girls on the dance floor looked at her expectantly, and the rest of the room followed suit.

The room was completely silent for all of three seconds, until she picked the flowers up gingerly, gave her best (fake) smile, and nodded to Breena in appreciation, at which point everyone in the room began to clap. _Hell_, Ziva thought, _it is her day, I might as well pretend like I'm thrilled for her sake. _

"I think you wanted it all along," Tony began, "and you just used your ninja mind tricks to get it."

"Really, Tony?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Personally, I think that the universe is simply taunting me. 'Here, have this, a simple yet cruel reminder of what you almost had'."

"But who says you won't have it? Nobody but you. These things take time." She looked at him, disbelieving. He decided another approach. "Okay. Listen. I struck out with Wendy. I felt the same way you did, back then, when it was still fresh. And I'm not gonna lie, seeing her again rehashed a lot of that same old self-pity bullshit. But I realized that you can't move forward if you're always looking over your shoulder. You'll just keep tripping over things in your way. _Good_ things. That you will be too busy not noticing because you're too focused on 'could have been'."

"Well thank you, but I still do not think that out of all these women, I will be the next to be married," she said, a small smile starting to creep onto her face. Partially because if the tradition rang true, even the youngest girl would be nearing her mid-thirties before she saw herself walking down the aisle, at the rate _she_ was going!

"Stranger things have happened. I mean, I've known you for more than half a decade and I'm still alive," he joked. The small smile turned into a larger one - a more sinister one, of course - but a smile nonetheless, which is what he'd been aiming for.

"That's true," she replied. "Maybe you are starting to grow on me."

"Maybe I am." He paused for a second. "Does that scare you?"

"Nothing about you scares me," she responded casually, so casually that he almost believed it. Almost.

"In that case, why don't you put down that bouquet and dance with me?"

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, for starters, now that you've caught people's attention by being the one to catch the bouquet, you can't continue being a wallflower. Also, you need to work some of that wine out of your system. And finally, don't you wanna dance with me? Even a little?" He flashed his trademark grin, and yep, she actually kinda _did. _

"Okay," she relented, if only to at least attempt to hide the fact that she was actually starting to enjoy herself. She, the self-proclaimed Ebenezer Scrooge - The Wedding Version. She let Tony lead her to the dance floor, and she followed his movements effortlessly.

"You know Ziva, maybe that bouquet _was_ a sign," Tony started, settling into the rhythm of the song.

"After your little pep talk, you're going to turn around and agree with me?" she asked, trying not to let him see that it kind of bothered her a little.

"Of course not. Maybe it was a sign that even if you're not looking for it, it will find you on its own. You know, on its own terms. When it's ready. " She met his eyes then, and she could tell that he meant it.

"Perhaps," she murmured, allowing herself to smile. Was there more behind what he'd said? She couldn't quite tell, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to. But Tony was right. Life had its way of working things out. And if love, and by extension, marriage, wanted to come to her on its own … well, she'd let it.

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**This turned out more serious than I wanted it to be, but I like it, so I'm not changing it, and you can't make me. (I am just as stubborn as Ziva, if not more.) **

**Reviews are well loved and appreciated, but not necessary. I do love receiving them, so thanks in advance if you do spare the time.  
**


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